An ca mac xuong: fishbone

I have a fishbone stuck in my throat. It is, I think, embedded in the lining of my esophagus, deep enough that I can't dislodge it no matter how much bread I eat, but shallow enough that I can feel the bone sometimes when I swallow. (No, it's not just scratched but it really is there.)

I went to lunch at Cesar's with a friend. We decided to share a salad of white potatoes and smoked trout. Of course, I ate and talked and talked and ate, and then with some gusto swallowed the fishbone. I want to say I did chew -- I remember being taught in pre-school to masticate my food before swallowing, but who knows what happened, b/c along with bread, potatoes, and trout -- I ate the bone, too.

After some consideration, it seemed not a good idea to sue the place (they serve excellent tapas and great wine) because they'd probably ban me from ever entering their business again. Besides, I would have become the biggest joke in Berkeley -- known evermore as She Who Does Not Chew Her Food.

It doesn't hurt when I eat -- in fact, I've tested it several times since this incident occurred at lunch. I've eaten grapefruit, rice, rice noodles, chocolate, bread, dried mangoes, twix bars, but nothing will do the trick. (Are you laughing b/c I've managed to eat so much even with a fishbone lodged in my throat? Well, I suppose I deserve that.) I've also swallowed a few liters of water. Except for having to use the bathroom every five minutes or so, nothing has changed. The trout bone remains fixed.

I distinctly remember one episode of House in which Dr. House ingeniously discovered that a wooden toothpick, swallowed by a patient they were trying to cure, was the root of all problems. Would it be surprising for them to write an episode in which a patient (played by yours truly?) accidentally swallows a fishbone and then her life is forever changed...? I can play this well, b/c I've done this before -- twice, at least.

My first vivid memory of swallowing fishbone dates back to my early years, when I was about 4 or 5, still living on Duong Vuon Chuoi, in province 3, of Saigon. I swallowed a fishbone during dinner, and was scared out of my wits. We lived in small alleyways, and I remember my mother taking me by the hand, walking through the narrow alleys towards what must have been a nearby doctor's house. I can't recall whether we ever reached the place, but this was my last memory: my mother, needing to soothe my anxiety, asked if I wanted to pray, and we stood there in the narrow pathway as dusk was falling, praying that God would allay my fears. It seems silly now, and I'm sure my mother was merely playing along to ease a child's fears. Yet, there is so much preciousness in this particular memory that I have to say thank God for that little fishbone.